


Call My Name

by Shes-claws-deep (CyrilOdahviing)



Series: April Fest 2019 [12]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Aftercare, Comfort, F/M, Female Dominance, Femdom, Fluff, Morning After, Pillow Talk, Sub!V, dom!reader, safeword, safeword usage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 09:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18870715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CyrilOdahviing/pseuds/Shes-claws-deep
Summary: For daemongal on tumblr~ V uses his safeword, something that he's vowed to never use at all. Brought down to earth, you make sure that he gets the aftercare he deserves. Plus all the kisses.





	Call My Name

Ever since you started this…dynamic with V, he always insisted that he’d never need his safeword. Despite his humbling and self-awareness, it doesn’t temper his pride. He tells you that he can handle whatever you give him, whatever you take from him, and he trusts you to know when to stop. But that’s the issue, isn’t it? You’re not all-knowing. You’re not able to read his mind, only his body, and you’re only human. In the haze of sex, in the heat of the moment, sometimes you don’t even know where you are, let alone when to stop pushing him too far.

Overstimulating him is something that you want to try, not him. Not at first, anyway. Knowing that, you resolve to keep a watchful eye, even vowing to put aside your own pleasure to focus on him. But in the end, what is it that they say about the best-laid plans? Right, they sometimes go to shit. Like this one.

After being denied for days on end, after being teased for the better part of the night, V is begging you with a hoarse voice to just let him cum. To let him have his long-awaited release. To you, this is exactly what you’ve been waiting for. You wrench yourself off his cock and take it into your hand instead, jerking him hard and fast with a flurry of movement as V wails that he’s going to cum. Oh, he’s going to cum right now. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop! And you don’t. You keep going, keep your thumb swiping over the oversensitive head of his cock until that tension within him snaps with an almighty explosion.

V’s back curves into an impossible arch off the bed as his orgasm hits him like a speeding train, wiping his mind entirely and making him choke on his own spittle. He cums, oh does he cum, and his pearly seed spurts out of him in long, thick trails that land on his chest, his neck, and even on his chin. But he doesn’t stop there, oh no. With your help, your hand on his twitching, throbbing cock, V’s orgasm stretches out into eternity, spilling wave after wave of seed until you’re so sure that there’s nothing left inside him.

There’s no patch of skin that isn’t covered with cum, nowhere that escapes the results of his ecstasy. Not even his own mouth. V’s looks ruined, wrecked, tears trailing down his face and drool leaking down his cheek and chin, and sweat mats his hair around his handsome face. Indeed, with his puffy, pouty lips and somewhat vacant eyes, he looks as pretty as a picture. A helplessly erotic picture.

In your hand, his cock begins to wilt. It softens, slackens, his strength sapped along with all the seed in his balls. But you’re not done. Not by a longshot. You stroke him gently, more of a pulsing squeeze with your hand than any proper movement, and even that is enough to make him jolt back to life. He startles, his body twitching like an automaton that has rebooted after crashing, his limbs flailing as you squeeze and attempt to coax him back into hardness. As he is wont to do, he begs you to stop. Mumbles and unintelligible gurgles more than anything, but you hear the words ‘no’ and 'stop’ in there. Would it have been enough to stop you? Perhaps, but with how often he uses those words when he really wants you to continue, you’ve learned not to hesitate even when you hear them. But the next word is one that makes you freeze.

Your name.

It’s whimpered in an exhausted, wrecked voice. One that’s so breathless and full of wetness that it would normally be unintelligible otherwise. But you’d know your name anywhere. V never uses your name during these sessions of pain and of pleasure, electing to refer to you by his or your desired titles. Using your name means he wants to stop, wants to end the fantasy that you both love playing out. Yes, your name is his safeword.

Instantly, you take your hand off him, wiping it off on the towel that you put under him. You manoeuvre yourself off him, ensuring that you don’t touch him more than necessary as you undo the ropes tying him to the bed, as you remove his askew blindfold. Intending to also remove his collar, you close your fingers around the tongue and the buckle, already fishing it out of its loop when V shakes his head weakly. No, don’t take it off. The collar can stay on.

While you don’t quite understand it, you let it go. V likes his creature comforts, even if they are sweat-soaked leather. Venturing elsewhere, you take his hands and lay them by his side gently, doing the same for his other side, then pulling his legs together as carefully as you can. The trembling muscles in his calves, the tightness in his thighs, they all amuse you for reasons you can’t quite explain. Perhaps it’s because it’s a sign of how much you’ve drained him? Used him? You say these things out loud, peppering little praises in a soothing voice. You praise him, thank him, shower him in soft, kind words as you clean him up lovingly.

V always did enjoy your voice and your praises. Even if he doesn’t openly show it, like now when he’s mostly incapacitated. In fact - you take a look at his face - you actually do think he’s passed out.

Well, that’s alright with you, you think. Better he be blissfully unaware of how much his body hurts while you wipe him down in a towel bath. The last time you had to wipe him down after a hard session, he was wincing and gritting his teeth through every stroke. Now, with him asleep, you can thoroughly ensure that you’ve gotten every bit of sweat, every bit of cum that’s coated on his skin. He’ll thank you for it when he wakes.

And indeed he does, for even when he’s passed out from sheer exhaustion, he manages to wake earlier than you in the morning. You wake to his questing finger along the bridge of your nose, the digit smelling only of his clean scent and nothing else. Yes, you were rather thorough last night. V’s face brightens when he sees your eyes flutter open, his soft visage greeting you as he dips his head down so he lies on the same pillow as you do. Gently, softly, he bids you good morning, following it up with a kiss when you croak your own greeting.

As you come fully awake, you realise that he’s wrapped himself around you quite well. With one arm around your waist and both legs entangled with yours, it’s a miracle you didn’t overheat. Still, that’s no reason not to cuddle closer. Not to you, anyway. So you shuffle into the shelter of his shoulders, snaking an arm around his back to repay his hug in kind, idly noting that he doesn’t feel the aftereffects of overstimulation the morning after.

V tips his nose into your hair, thinks, and concurs with an amused voice. That’s not to say he doesn’t feel the aftereffects of your other loving caresses, such as the marks from the rope, your teeth, and even one imprint of your hand on his hip. Or so he thinks, judging from how sore it feels when your hand passes over it now. With his hand susurrating over your back, V murmurs that he hopes he didn’t ruin your fun last night.

It’s a soft murmur, so quiet that you’d have thought you’d imagined it if not for the suddenly downcast look on his handsome face. Equally as quietly, you ask him why he feels that way.

Overstimulation was your ideal fantasy, wasn’t it? You were so excited for it, even binding him down tightly in anticipation of his movements while under the thrall of painful pleasure. You’d mentioned you couldn’t try this with your previous lovers, and V was determined not to ruin this for you. Except…he had, didn’t he? He couldn’t even last a moment of you stroking his cock past his orgasm without crying mercy. Crying a safeword he thought he’d never need. Sharp pangs of shame chill him from the inside out, forcing V into retreating into your hair to stop himself from blurting out apology after apology.

As for you, you also feel those same bolts of shame prickle at you. It had never been your intention to make him feel bad. After all, he’s pleased you so well, made you feel things you’ve never been able to with any other partner. So you pull away and kiss those burgeoning tears away, leaving your lips on his as you reassure him that no, he didn’t ruin your night at all. In fact, he made it so much better. Because you did it with him. And you’d never care about what you did with him, or to him, as long as it was V under your hands. It didn’t matter to you that he couldn’t take overstimulation. Few people could. This would never put a damper on your relationship with him. Never. 

V blinks rapidly at your words and ducks his chin, trembling and trying to stop the relieved smile that threatens to split his face in two. Did he? Did he really please you? It makes a powerful warmth bloom inside him, fill him, and relax him. He only ever wanted to make you happy and he succeeded.

You nod. Every night and every day, he makes you happy. You can only hope that you make him happy too. Even if he’s begging you to stop.

Those puffy lips turn up into a grin and he nuzzles your face, purring that yes, you do make him happy. So happy that he feels like his soul could burst. Especially when he’s begging you to stop. His grin and his giddiness make him miss your lips when he goes in for a passionate kiss, leaving wet marks as he adjusts and takes your lips properly. Even if you’re happy with his performance last night, well, it can’t hurt if he offers an encore this morning, now would it?


End file.
